The Game
by Chereche
Summary: Lucas confronts Maya about the changes occurring between them after she backed out of the triangle.


Maya didn't bother to look up when she heard the distinctive sound of footsteps coming down the alley she was in. It wasn't one of those stereotypical dark alleys full of garbage dumpsters and icky puddles of unidentifiable liquids, and while it was a bit smelly, she had encountered considerably worse. Plus the alley served as a shortcut for many, and, if she took the time to scope out or acknowledge every soul who came down the path, she would never finish analysing the pattern drawn on the wall. It was amazing what people managed to do with just a few cans of spray paint on a dirty wall. At a distance it looked magnificent, but it was even more detailed close up. Could she ever manage something like that with so imperfect a canvas, she wondered?

"Maya."

She flinched, then spun around, eyes wide, both from hearing her name, but especially because of who was speaking. She swallowed, suddenly nervous as she saw Lucas standing a few feet away from her, hands stuffed into his pockets and a rather grim expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glancing behind him for sign of their other friends. No, they were alone...just the two of them...exactly how she did not want them to be.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asked.

"We need to talk," he told her, stepping a bit closer.

Maya gulped. They hadn't been alone like this since well before Shawn and her mother had gotten engaged. For something to do, she checked the time, before eyeing him with a hint of suspicion. "It's barely five, why aren't you with Riley? You guys were supposed to hang out."

"I ended it early," he said softly. "I had something I needed to deal with."

"Something?" she inquired. "What could you possible have to do in this part of town?"

Lucas lifted his eyebrows as he gave her an expectant look. Her gaze shifted away and she crossed her arms defensively. "Go away," she sighed, turning away, "Riley should still be at Topanga's."

"We have to talk Maya," he told her, "about what's going on between us."

"There's nothing between us," she scoffed, looking back toward him. "There has never been anything between us."

"Says who?" he demanded with exasperation, lifting his hands into the air briefly. "Maya, I don't understand anything that has been happening. You're not yourself? You never really liked me? How could you believe that? You cannot believe that."

"I have to believe that," she muttered, briefly glancing up at him.

His expression shifted to confusion. "Maya..."

"Look, forget about it," she said quickly. "Everything is as it should be. The triangle's over. Riley has you and I have...my art. I have my art," she continued, forcing cheerfulness into her tone, "art I was trying to work on until you interrupted me."

She turned away pointedly, and began to trace a paint covered bit of the wall.

"If things are as they should be," he said, "then why can't you look at me?"

"I'm looking at you," she snapped, briefly glancing at him. "See, looking right at you."

"When's the last time you've called me a name, any name?" he demanded.

She made a frustrated sound, spinning around again to glare up at him. "Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Oh? We've been talking for the past five minutes and there hasn't been a single Ranger Rick or Huckle Berry yet."

"I thought you hated those?"

"Only when you're being insulting," he replied mildly, "As you very well know."

Maya's hands clenched, and once again she turned her head. "Go away," she ground out. "We aren't doing this."

"Doing what?" he retorted.

"Go back to Riley," she said, voice cracking as she stepped back from him with a sigh. "That's who you chose."

"I never chose," he corrected. "You told me to choose her."

"What's the difference?" she asked tiredly.

Lucas' brows furrowed for a moment, before he sighed, muttering something to himself that she didn't quite get.

"This isn't right, Maya," he stated.

"This is the way it is," she replied scratching at her temple as she felt her eyes burn. "Look Lucas," she said, letting out a dry laugh as his expression shifted, "and yes, see I even called you by you actual name, I'm fine. You have nothing to worry about. Everything is fine. I'm fine. You're fine. We're all fine. So go back to Riley."

She twisted her head, not wanting to see him walk away from her. Thus, her breath escaped her as he reached out, and grasping her upper arms, pulled her to him in one swift movement. They were close, so close, and she was helpless to resist as their eyes locked for several long seconds, much like that night in Texas which had started it all. She swallowed, and perhaps a soft sound escaped her when Lucas' face moved closer to hers. Her breath hitched, no...he could be...but at the last second his target shifted and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before meeting her gaze again.

"I'll play your game for now Maya Hart," he stated, his tone low and husky, "but we both know how it always end," he added with a smirk, releasing her.

She stood there, a bit shell-shocked as he tipped his invisible hat in her direction before walking away.

She reached up to touch the spot he had kissed as she mulled over his words, pondering the implications of his words. Sighing deeply, she turned back to the art she had been looking at before, noting how different the lines looked through a sheen of tears.


End file.
